YA cares way more about her hair, her make-up and her clothing than I care about mine. I think I’ve said here before that I don’t even own make-up and I only take the blow dryer to my hair about once a year. And these days, wearing a pair of jeans instead of sweatpants is really dressing up. So it didn’t surprise me when she wanted a pair of really sharp “hair scissors” for her birthday recently. I assumed it would figure greatly into her quest to rid her world of split ends.
On Saturday we were watching the Olympics (the new mixed speed skate relay is fascinating) when she turned the scissors on me. She’d been hinting (rather aggressively) the last few weeks that my hair is getting too long and scraggly. Although I was a little worried she would chop off more than I wanted, which she has done before, when she brought it up again, I relented.
I should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it. Then she wanted me to blow dry it – I told her if she wanted my hair dry right away, she would need to do that herself. After she spent way too long (in my estimation) drying and fluffing my strands, she decided that she needed to bring the straightener into my room as well because my ends were “curling too much”.
All of this cutting and blowing and straightening took about 45 minutes and I will admit that I’m not the most patient. For some reason that I don’t understand, the commercials showing on the tv coverage of the Olympics were bothering me — and more than usual since I was already ramped up about the hair fuss. To combat my annoyance I grabbed a book off my bedstand and muted the tv.
So there we were, watching the Olympics, reading and running a hair salon in my bedroom all at once. Multi-tasking at it’s best!
I am one of those folks who keeps all my passwords written down. I know lots of people use online password software these days, but it seems to me that if you need a separate password on almost every internet site that you visit in order to protect your data, that having all your passwords on the internet isn’t the smartest thing. Considering how good hackers are at what they do, why should I give them a helping hand?
Starting at least 10 years ago, I realized that my method of post-it notes wasn’t going to cut it any longer and I made a spreadsheet that I saved onto a thumbdrive after I printed it out. And since I often needed passwords at home as well, I printed two copies.. always on really bright paper (I kept my office copy in the middle of a binder, so the bright color helped me find it). Any changes got penciled in and then every year or so, I would update the file and print new copies.
About five years ago I was cleaning up in my room and ended up once again picking up my password printout off the floor. In fact, it was two versions… I don’t remember why. As I picked them up I thought to myself “I should put these someplace safer where I’ll remember where they are”. You know where this is going. The next time I needed those sheets, I couldn’t remember where I had put them. I spent A LOT of time looking for them, but clearly wherever I had put them, they were definitely safe.
Fast forward five years. I’m doing a massive cataloging project in my studio and a couple of days ago, I emptied out the drawer in which I keep my stencils. Now I open this drawer a lot to get to various stencils but I haven’t actually dug down to the bottom of the drawer for quite some time. As I was sorting through everything, I found the password sheets. What possessed me to put them in the stencil drawer? I have never ever put anything else in there for safekeeping.
This experience has made me realize a couple of things. #1 – I need to use my stencils more often. #2 – my password situation is still out of hand. #3 — every time I say to myself “I’ll put this someplace I’ll remember it”, I should just slap myself.
Today’s farm/township update comes to us from Ben.
Kelly and I saw “Come from Away” last Sunday. It was fantastic. In the lobby we heard a guy walk up to his wife and say, “My glasses fogged up and I was following the wrong lady in a red jacket.”
It was so cold! How cold was it? It was so cold I wore sleeves. It was so cold I saw a duck standing on one foot. It was so cold the handle on the water hydrant by the barn wouldn’t move. Then it warmed up for a day and the chickens came out, and the hydrant worked, and the ducks just looked at their corn.
In the winter, we get pheasants coming in to eat the corn I throw out for the ducks. Each year there’s a couple more and this year it’s 9 or 10. It’s pretty cool. The crows have learned there’s free food here too. Kelly doesn’t like the crows.
Here’s a picture of some dark colored blobs down there. Those are pheasants.
I’m on our local townboard. Been on there since 1998. We have one house on a major road that is city on both sides of this house, and there is 100’ of sidewalk in front of that house. I don’t know if it’s a ‘walking path’ or ‘bike path’ or ‘sidewalk’ but It’s the only sidewalk in the township. (because the rest of the township is rural or subdivisions that don’t have sidewalks). The city clears the walking path out in this area because there are no home frontages here, but they have been skipping that 100’ in front of this house. And the property owner has never plowed it. As it’s in the middle of this stretch of path, it’s a problem for people using the path. I learned all this last winter when I got an angry phone call from a city resident who lives out there and uses this path. I didn’t even know it was a township problem. I didn’t know the homeowner and I didn’t know if he had health issues or what reasons there might be for him not clearing the sidewalk. Took me a few days to connect with him, during which, the county snowplow just pushed all the snow back off the sidewalks and so the path was open. Turns out the guy just refuses to clear the walk on principle. Huh. He figures he didn’t ask for this sidewalk, so he’s not going to plow it. We, as the township, don’t have a sidewalk ordinance and we don’t want to make one for 100’ of sidewalk when we have 33 miles of roads to deal with, therefore we couldn’t force him to clear it. And the city says it’s not theirs, so they don’t want to clear it (even though they’re clearing a mile on both sides of it). Last winter the weather warmed up and the problem went away.
This winter I’ve been watching it as I drive by this area. I’ve seen the guy out there with his small tractor and blower doing his driveway, but he still isn’t doing the sidewalk. And I can’t decide if I admire him for sticking to his principles or if he’s being a jerk. And the city now is clearing it as they’re driving through there anyway. Which makes sense, but I could also see them leaving it… on principle.
Twenty-five years ago, just after I got on the Townboard, we repaved some roads in a subdivision. One resident never paid his share believing no one would come and tear out the road. Jokes on him; the company DID tear up 100’ of blacktop, leaving a section of gravel on this road. Didn’t take long for him to pay up and the road to get fixed. Maybe the neighbors convinced him.
We have a mystery going on at our townhall. It’s an old building, looks like a one room school. (Maybe it was the school that got blown across the road in the great tornado of 1883, or maybe it was always a townhall; depends who you ask and what maps you choose to believe).
For the last 3 years we’ve been picking up Phillips vodka bottles in the gravel parking lot. I wish LJB was still around; we need a good story for this! We have our suspicions… once a week, there will be 1, 2, or sometimes even 3 vodka bottles. Very few are empty. Some have never been opened! Most will be between ½ and 2/3’s full. We’ve got a collection in the hall now of 14 bottles, and there are a lot that have been picked up and thrown out and don’t make it to the hall collection. The hall is at the intersection of two major roads. People park there in summer and ride bikes or jog. A school bus stops there. Sheriff deputies park there to do reports.
Why are you not finishing the vodka? And why are you leaving them there? Bonus points if you can tie in the glasses fogged up guy.
And I wave my magic crane . . . and, poof, it is gone.
A few years ago I wrote a blog about this sculpture which sat on the MSU-M campus, including my ambivalence to it. It is carved in the same Kasota limestone from just north of Mankato which is used at Target Field. Someone, I think maybe Jacque, did some digging and told me it is called the Pillars. And objected to my critique. All is fair in art criticism. My picture then did not show it settled in as does the header photo. It looks better in that photo surrounded by the vegetation. I even like it in that photo.
I had not driven past it in years, out of my way for everywhere I was going. Then Sandy went into memory care. As a result, I drive by it twice a day. After a few trips with my brain overloaded with the transition in my life, I looked that way, hard not to really when waiting at the stop light at a major pedestrian crossing on campus, and saw it is all gone.
My son got taken up by the question and did some digging. The MSU-M website says it is still there and makes no other comment. I drove around campus, which has quite a few sculptures strewn around, but did not see it anywhere else.
So it is a mystery. I can imagine a few reasons it is gone, such as various departments upset about being upside down or absent. One statue inside the student union is a hot topic right now with students and others. (See below.)
Mankato itself has many sculptures in it these days. It has a sculpture walk through downtown with some of them permanent and some changed out periodically. My own favorite is near the sculpture walk but has a different purpose.
This is the memorial to those Sioux/Lacota people who were hanged here after the Lacota Uprising. (It used to be called the Sioux Uprising but its name has been changed. But one tribal group near here still call themselves Sioux.) Behind the buffalo is a scroll, not shown in my photo, listing the names of those executed. It is a touchy issue how to memorialize that event, an event once portrayed on such things as a beer platter. The site is now part industrial and part library. It is a tiny little park almost under an overpass and next to a busy railroad track. It was carved by a native artist. It was once vandalized with paint but was easily cleaned and remains untouched, surprisingly. I find it perfect for the space and the purpose.
In the student union is a very nice sculpture of Abraham Lincoln, a little larger than life-size in a busy student traffic area, which is the hot topic issue. I am sure I do not need to explain. Without making any comment on that topic, I suggest maybe all sculptures of real people should be shown with feet of clay.
History is about changing points of view, changing taste, changing truth. How have your truths changed and your taste in art changed?
I saw a headline last week that Oreo cookies are now 110 years old. To celebrate, they have come up with another flavor of filling – confetti birthday cake. I was surprised because I figured there already WAS a birthday cake Oreo. After all in the last few years we’ve seen caramel apple, jelly donut, mint chocolate chip, pb & j, even Peeps – according to Oreo, there are actually 85 varities INCLUDING birthday cake. But apparently Confetti Birthday Cake Oreos are different than regular Birthday Cake Oreos.
Thinking about all these cookie varieties reminded me of a conference call I was on the week before on which one of my co-workers asked my boss what she takes for her headaches. Boss said Excedrin because a couple of years ago, she compared Excedrin to Migraine Excedrin and they appeared to have exactly the same amount of whatever it is that kills headaches. To avoid the marketing hoo haa, and the additional expense, she sticks to the original.
And this makes me think about the sixteen (at least) kinds of Crest toothpaste on the shelf at Target. One variety for every possible thing that could be an issue with your teeth. I’ve never compared ingredients but if I had to bet my own money, I would imagine there’s not a lot of difference.
When I was a kid, there was just one Oreo, just one Crest, just one Excedrin (actually I don’t remember Excedrin as a kid, although their website says they launched in 1960). I’m not advocating going back to a “simpler time” or anything like that, but it is a very interesting evolution of how products are now brought to market. It’s like many companies are trying to bring every niche market under their own umbrellas.
I guess I’m not even sure how I feel about this but I will say that I think 85 varieties of Oreo is rather silly, especially with 2 kinds of birthday cake cookies. You all know that I can’t stay away from Oreos with holiday colored filling (orange at Halloween, red in December, yellow in the spring) but those are the regular flavored filling. The couple of flavored Oreos that I have tried over the years didn’t appeal to me at all; I was expecting that the peanut butter one would taste really good – it didn’t. I don’t even like Double Stuff that much. So I’ll stick to my original Oreos and pass up the birthday day variety, although truth be told, I prefer Hydrox (if you could actually get them anymore).
Do you have a niche product that you like?(Alternate question: dunk or no dunk?)
YA was seriously into the art scene over her birthday weekend. She actually requested that I take either Friday or Monday off to go to the Minneapolis Art Institute with her. I have a friend who works at MIA and she said it’s pretty deserted on week days, so I took Friday off and we headed to see art.
Since it was YA’s day, I let her lead; she didn’t have anything in particular that she wanted to see so we pretty much just wandered around. She isn’t a big reader so we saw far more than I would have seen on my own; I love to know what the artist has titled their work and any background/history on either the piece or the artist is always interesting to me. Normally because I am slow, I don’t always see my favorite works but this isn’t a big deal as I know they will be there the next time.
So the first of my favorites we happened upon was the Yoruba shrine head. It is exquisitely carved and I always have to be reminded that it’s centuries old as it seems very contemporary to me.
Then we walked through a gallery where the second of my favorites resides. Les Trois Graces is a smaller version of a statue that was initially installed outside the Paris Opera House. The artist, Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, went on to do various versions of this work in a lot of different mediums (media?). I love the delicacy of the hands and the gracefulness of the feet and toes as they dance.
I felt like good fortune had befallen me and then we climbed up to the third level and came across my very favorite, living in a different gallery than the last time I saw her. The Veiled Lady by Monti. I know that there is a technique to making marble seem transparent – something to do with the smoothness versus the roughness of the carved marble – but it still seems like magic to me.
And as if this weren’t enough, to see all three of my favorite pieces on the same day, we came across a little bronze piece, only about 10 inches high (see the header photo). This is a sculpture of Loie Fuller, who was a well-known dancer in the late 1800s. A quick search uncovers quite a bit of artwork based on Fuller, much of it can only be described as “ecstatic”, like this one. Of course, now I have a book of her life on hold at the library and I have a fourth favorite at MIA.
As we were departing the museum it occurred to me that all four of my favorites are sculptures. Maybe because I have never seen all of them on the same day, I just never connected the dots. If you had asked me last week, I could not have told you that my favorite artworks are sculptures (and not just at MIA). I have always marveled at the artist’s ability to not only envision the sculpture but to chisel down to it. Sculpture seems all the more magical to me because it must be so unforgiving. One wrong hit of the hammer and you have to start over!
If these sculptures came to life, what would you serve them for lunch?
As you all know, I have an ancient house; it is not the easiest to heat. Ten years ago, when the Airport Commission replaced our upstairs windows, the house became harder to heat evenly7. The windows are not only great sound abatement but they hold the hot air in really effectively. This means that during really cold weather, the temperature difference between the downstairs and the upstairs is significant.
On Sunday morning, I lingered upstairs, reading longer than usual and I noticed that it was chillier than usual. Since it was well below zero outside, I didn’t think too much about it but as I descended the stairs for breakfast, it felt like I was entering a walk-in cooler. A quick look at the thermostat gave me a little shock… 56 degrees. We have one of those set-back thermostats and it is set quite cold during the night (since we’re in the warmer upstairs, asleep under covers) but the program has it set to start warming up at 6 a.m. At this point it was after 8 and it still hadn’t warmed up at all.
I started to panic – I always feel like I’m on the edge where house maintenance is concerned and I envisioned days of frozen fingers and toes. Then I remembered that I’d had someone out to do boiler maintenance at the end of the summer – so it didn’t seem likely that it was a boiler fail. And THEN I remembered that quite a few years back, someone coming out to check the heat had discovered that the batteries in my thermostat had died. Since I can’t remember any time (in years) that I’ve changed those batteries, I thought I would try that.
I spent a couple of hours checking and re-checking the temperature and the radiators, studiously NOT turning on the oven or the space heater so I could be sure any rise in temp was due to the boiler alone. It took about 2 ½ hours to get up to 65, at which point I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I congratulated myself on figuring out the problem on my own.
Monday morning was a splash of cold water in my face. When I went downstairs, it was 56 degrees again. After a few seconds of panic, I realized that it was only 6:15 – there hadn’t been enough time for it to warm up yet. This didn’t keep me from checking several times over the next hour until I was sure everything was fine. Phew!
When was the last time you got it right but didn’t trust that you got it right?
I don’t remember why I asked for a DVD of The Cave of Forgotten Dreams from the library. I had to get it through InterLibrary Loan so it took awhile. I have a vague memory of seeing something recently about cave art so that is probably it, but I’m not sure I’ll ever remember for sure.
It was captivating to see the cave art (from the Chauvet Cave in southern France) – the public is not allowed in the caves so it felt a little like getting away with something although the scientists and camera crew did have permission.
The film got weird in a few places, a little disconnected and then at the end it got REALLY weird. In a “postscript”, the film introduces a nuclear power near the caves and then continues to show the crocodiles who have been added to the warm waters of the plant. Not only that, but some albino crocodiles became the final focus with the film clearly suggesting that they are mutants from radiated water. This, of course, captured my interest in a big way. First off, they weren’t crocodiles, they were alligators – classic u-shaped alligator snouts. But more importantly, why in heaven’s sake would a nuclear power plant build a crocodile farm?
Of course all my questions were answered when I actually looked up at the screen just in time to see “Written, Directed and Narrated by Werner Herzog”. I don’t know a lot about Herzog but I have seen enough comments over the years to know that he doesn’t use the same definition of “truth” that I do. This made it incredibly easy to fact-check the crocodile farm story. The power plant did NOT build the croc farm; it was built by two crocodile enthusiasts. They are close to the cave and they do use the water from the nuclear power plant but the water is consistently tested and has never shown any radioactivity. And the albinos? Imported from a croc farm in the Southern U.S.; they were albino before they even reached the French waters. Not radioactive mutants. None of this really explains the purpose of the postscript of the film, but it was interesting research.
The most noteworthy fact I found is that the French croc farm is not the only place on the planet where crocodiles are benefitting from nuclear waters. Apparently 25% of the crocodiles in the U.S. thrive among the cooling canals at Turkey Point Nuclear Plant south of Miami. They are protected, having been encouraged there since the discovery of the first nest back in the 70s. Fascinating.
Have you ever held a baby alligator or crocodile in your hands? Snake? Tarantula? Anything?
It’s January in Minnesota and it’s cold and the duck pond is half frozen over. Plus the car is a mess and it’s too cold to get it washed.
When I was growing up, this wasn’t considered a problem. Other than spraying the car off with a hose once in a while, or letting it sit out in the rain, I hardly ever remember getting the car washed. Kicking off the snow warts was about all that was involved in exterior maintenance of the car. Maybe that was just us. The first car I remember was a Chevrolet; a Bel Air or Impala, or maybe Caprice. They all kinda looked the same, didn’t they? Pea Green. And a Chevy C20 truck that was blue. But I don’t remember either ever being washed or cleaned in any manner. And they weren’t rust buckets.
I got to thinking about carwashes. I remember taking my cars to the hand wash places before prom or something important. Not being really familiar with how they worked, I ran out of time before I had washed all the soap off. I drove out and was drying it outside when the guy who ran the wash, who turned out to be a guy I knew, came over and asked me what I was doing and told me to run it back in again and rinse it off. He paid for that. That was my first car wash lesson.
I have a carwash membership these days. I average about 2 washes per month, which is almost cost effective. I do like the convenience of just being able to go whenever I want. And they’re nice people and I like it when the woman who is the owner is on the wash line because I know I get a better wash when she’s there. I tip the guys too, I think that helps. I don’t get too many washes in January or February. (Another time I sure wish I had a heated garage). And those nice warmer late winter days, there’s 15 cars in line at the wash. Even 5 cars back it takes 20 minutes to get into the wash so I need to plan accordingly and decide if it’s worth it. And it’s just going to get dirty again so I need to justify it in my mind that at least I’m taking the first layer off.
I did some research. The first carwash was created in 1914 in Detroit. Workers pushed the cars through an ‘assembly line’ process and each person had a dedicated job. By 1920 some carwashes had large, shallow, pools to drive around to clean off the tires and undercarriage before moving into a stall for cleaning. The first automated wash came in 1951.
There have been a lot of innovations and changes. It was interesting to read how brushes were a big deal and if they made to much noise when scrubbing, people didn’t like that. White wall tires were hard to keep clean and several methods were tried including boys in a 4’ deep pit on the sides to scrub those whitewalls with a steam cleaner or brush. Or the method of attaching a log chain to the front bumper to pull that cars through. That worked as long as the driver followed the rules; Sometimes it would pull the bumper off the car. That was fixed by going to ropes instead of chains so at least the rope would break before it pulled the bumper off.
And the carwash people used to get in the car themselves, which some people didn’t like, or maybe the drivers didn’t like the claustrophobia caused by a tunnel, so the washes got taller and wider and windows got added.
Some washes can handle 250,000 – 300,000 cars annually. Or more. *
Considering how much a car costs now, it’s worth keeping clean. Plus, it just feels better to drive a clean car. In fact, that was a jingle from a local carwash place 30 years ago. “You’ll feel better driving a clean car!” Mermaid Carwash hired a lot of high school kids. He paid a bonus if you kept your grades up. I knew a few kids that worked for him and it sounds like he was a good boss. Eventually he was bought out by a chain.
It will warm up here soon then I’ll get the car washed. The truck too.
Ever been part of a carwash event? Tell us about your carwashes.
YA and I both received jigsaw puzzles for the hoidays. Since I had several days off, I thought it would be fun to get one of them started. Of course, I should have realized that the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree where jigsaw puzzles are concerned.
We started the puzzle about about 1:30 p.m., on the card table in the living room. We finished the puzzle at 10:15 p.m. With short timeouts for refreshing a beverage or making a quick sandwich, we both sat at the table until we were finished.
Sitting with her for that length of time I began to see some differences in how we approached the puzzle. I like to go through all the pieces one by one at the beginning to find the edge pieces. YA just like to sift through looking for edge pieces. I tend to look for a piece that fits a particular spot. YA likes to choose a piece and then figure out where it goes. (Her method was seriously aided by a large fold out picture of the puzzle – which she hogged most of the day.)
The next morning my friend in Chicago texted me a photo of the puzzle she and her husband were working on. They have all the pieces sorted by color and instead of assembling all the edges first, they work on sections by color. It’s fascinating to realize that there are probably many other ways to work on a puzzled that I have never encountered or thought of. I’m pretty sure that this realization will not change how I like to do puzzles although this will be tested out soon. YA’s puzzle is made by the same company so I’m assuming it will have a large fold-out picture. Maybe I can hog it when we sit down to do hers!
Trail Baboon 